The Book Keeper
by Chrys-DASL
Summary: The town is filled with rubble from buildings long past their destruction date. There isn't much left except a horrified and malnourished man hiding inside a cave of broken parts, or so they think. At night the protectrons come, clearing out any bandits and moving rubble around, cleaning the place up one piece at a time. But for what? Better yet, for who?
1. Chapter 1

THE BOOK KEEPER:

THE STORY OF THE LIBRARIAN AT ARLINGTON ESTATES

A/N: Set in 3 with elements from 4. Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE

The town of Arlington Estates was a massive pile of rubble when I got there. A few people, probably decedents of whoever owned these homes in the first place, got some things together after the bombs hit. A few foundations were cleared and a small make-shift town was built. A gardening area was sectioned off with old white picket fences, and there seemed to be plenty of land in this area to feed a fair amount of people.

But there was no one here when I arrived. Just a stand of homes on the horizon, I came into town looking for some things for another settlement when I came across this one. It had potential, and all I had to do was clear out a few raiders.

The one thing surviving in the Wastes has taught me is that raiders will settle just about anywhere. In a swamp? Sure, it's only a little water and methane to brighten things up. In an almost completely destroyed building? Hey, that's what tarps are for! They'll set up shop just about anywhere, and to my surprise, I found these guys outside the town in this little...thing, no structure, built up from the debris from those first buildings.

What I'm trying to say is that this battle came first. I hadn't stepped foot in Arlington Estates really, because these raiders were in the way, not that they were any trouble. I snuck up on the first one and put a 10mm round through his head. I felt bad about the way his face blew off and his eyeball rolled against my foot, but when his psycho buddy started firing on me from this little watchtower they'd built out of the blocks, I didn't feel as awful for these guys. This psycho had gotten hold of a fairly good automatic weapon and crippled my left arm before I had time to decide how to deal with his ugly ass.

In the end, I returned the favor. I'd picked up an automatic pipe rifle off a trader back at the last settlement, so I fired off some rounds using my VATS to aim. Fucker took a round in the leg and went down like a sack of potatoes. It scared the crap out of him too because he was trying to run at that point.

"Nope, you're not going anywhere," I said to him with a grin, putting my trusty 10mm pistol under his chin. With one shot this raider psycho was gone, leaving me with a shiny red workbench to look in.

I was surprised at how big the place was, and this is when I found the area that had already been cleared. Not much was left to it other than the bare foundation and some wooden walls. One bed had somehow made it through, not that I'd want to sleep on it. Some broken coffee cups and Nuka Cola bottles were all I found here outside of a good weapons workbench, but I knew to keep walking around the town.

At the other end of the property, I found a person. I really wasn't expecting this after dealing with those raiders on the front end of things, and I could tell by the man's surprise that he hadn't seen a friendly face in a while either.

"Are you one of them raiders? Here, take all I have!" he cried, shoving a duffel bag in my direction.

I shook my head, "No, I'm not a raider. In fact, I just took care of those guys out front. They shouldn't be bothering you anymore."

"Good," the man nodded, though I could tell he was still skeptical. He confirmed this with his next question, "Are you sure you're not one of them? I mean, not many of them are as smooth-talking as you seem to be, but I've been wrong before."

"Look, I'm not a raider, okay? I found my way here while exploring, killed the raiders out front, then I poked around the place a little. That's how I get supplies out here in the Wastes, and I only kill who deserves it, and I only take what I need," I explained.

"So, do I deserve to be killed?" he asked meekly.

"No! In fact, I want to do something here. It's in a prime location between some other settlements, and I think I can really make this place something. The people before already started some work. If you don't mind getting your hands dirty with rubble or farming, you can help me with that work. What do you say?" I inquired, not knowing if this guy was going to trust me or not.

The guy shifted his weight, "Who did what before? I mean, I believe you because I ain't left this thing in years now, but what did they do?"

"Did you come in here with your eyes closed? Come take a look at this," I said, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him back the way I'd come. He didn't flinch as much as I thought he would, but I could tell he was curious to know what I was talking about, so I led him over to the area.

The guy was stunned, "Look, I don't know who did this, but it wasn't me. It must've been one of the raiders or something. I haven't heard anything though, so maybe one of them super mutant things just threw everything out of here."

I gave this guy a confused look, "You think a super mutant could do something like this? It looks to me like someone methodically took away the rubble piece by piece. I think that's what the raiders were staying in when I left, the area where they put the good stuff for later."

The guy shook his head, "I don't know, but...I trust you. Even if I didn't, you took away those raiders so I can go outside again. My name is John Hammer, but everyone just calls me John. Whatever you need, I'll do it, starting with getting more buildings to look like this. There's nothing else here thanks to the bombs from the Great War and all this other stuff going on. We might as well make it into something else."

"Well, thanks for coming around. Do you need anything?" I asked.

John nodded, "I could use some real supplies for once. I found this old shipment of Instamash, but if I eat one more bite of that stuff, I'll go crazy. Can you take me to one of those other settlements while you work here? I've got a little pistol to help you with any bad guys, but I'm not too good of a shot."

I laughed, "Neither am I sometimes, John. I'll take you over to Megaton. Now, I don't know if you've heard of this place, but I'll warn you there's a bomb in the middle of this place. I disarmed it and moved in a while ago, so I can tell you the place is safe. You'll meet others and have plenty of access to whatever else you want to eat. You can stay at my house while I'm away here if you'd like."

John raised an eyebrow, "You want me to go with you to a settlement where the town's centerpiece is an unexploded bomb?" he asked, starting to pinch himself, "Okay, I'm going crazy or I'm dreaming. First you show me this cleared foundation, which was a pharmacy building before you came here, and now you want to take me to some, what was it again, Megaton? You want me to go there?"

"There's plenty of food, good food at that, and I can get you whatever else you want at my house. I've even got some steak," I said, knowing I was sweetening the deal.

John shook his head, "I think I've finally lost it, but I can't turn down a good steak. Lead the way."

I led him back to Megaton and showed him around the place. He ate like a horse when we got there. As long as it wasn't Instamash, he'd eat it. I left him there with instructions to not eat too much, then I headed back to Arlington Estates.

I came into town after dark, but I knew something was up. I could hear movement coming from across the town, so I crouched down and used another destroyed building for cover. I peered over a particularly tall pile of rubble and nearly fell back on my ass.

A legendary Protectron was clearing the rubble, and he had friends. Five of them in total, all legendary, were clearing away the rubble. A sixth carried whatever good chunks they had over to the front of the town where I'd first arrived, and a seventh took away whatever wasn't good over to the workbench to remix the concrete later.

I sat and watched them work for a long time. I needed to make sure these were in fact robots instead of a man inside them using it for power armor. This was something beyond most factory Protectrons, but if the right person tinkered around with them, I could see this being possible, but only barely.

I needed to investigate this, but I didn't want to mess with those Protectrons. I snuck back out of town and headed back to Megaton as fast as I could.

I found John in the men's room heaving his guts out into a bucket. He barely looked up at me as I took a stool nearby and waited for this round to be over. He'd overeaten for sure, judging by what people said about the guy as I walked in. Now he needed to clear the system, and hopefully he hadn't burst something in the process.

After a few minutes, he looked up at me, "Well, here I am. Have you made any progress over at the Estates?"

"No, in fact I left as soon as I arrived. Have you ever seen a Protectron over there, like an altered one?" I asked.

He looked at me in surprise, "You didn't see any when you came in? Oh, right, you came in during the day. They only come out at night. After patrolling, they start working on something really loud...oh. I bet they're the ones that cleared out the pharmacy of rubble. I completely forgot about it, namely because I didn't know what they were doing. I guess I know now."

"So they knew you were there and didn't try to hurt you?" I asked.

"No, they never did," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean, they knew I was there. They found me the first night I was there, did some scan on me, and left. All of them just went back wherever they'd come from. Then the next night, they came back and handed me a written order. It told me to mind my manners or something, and I did what it said. Here's the note if you're interested. Maybe you can make more sense of it," he said, passing me a note from his back pocket before tapping the bucket again, "Leave me to this."

I complied and went back to my house to look over the note. I immediately saw why John was having issues reading it. It was done in calligraphy, fancy calligraphy, and it looked to be written from an old fashioned fountain pen to boot. It was hard to read until you studied it, but I found that John had gotten the most he could out of the letter:

 _Dear Settler,_

 _We will not hurt you. As long as you stay in your place and stay out of our way, we will not harm you in any way._

There was no signature, but I knew there were only a few types of people that would be alright with writing this way. It was perfect, but it was also something practiced until it was perfect. Whoever wrote this letter was an intellectual, and I was willing to bet they were the same person who altered those Protectrons to be what they were in the first place. That was something that would take some degree of science skill, plus knowledge of robots that none of us had.

The pieces didn't seem to fit though. Why would someone interested in calligraphy also be interested in robots? The Wastes could be boring the longer you stayed alone, but part of me wondered if this was really a group of people living somewhere in Arlington Estates.

I had to go back. I gathered up some supplies for fighting robots just in case these Protectrons decided I was an enemy, then I started back to the Estates, hoping the entire way that this would go alright.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I approached the Estates at dusk. I had arrived earlier in the afternoon, so I decided to kill time by poking around again. After gathering some hubflower down the hill from the Estates, I took a look at the rubble zone. Not only were the bodies of the raiders gone, but the area they were staying in looked improved. I checked the workbench and found quite a bit more cement, steel, and wood from the rubble, confirming that these Protectrons were not only efficient, but they could probably pack a mean punch if you provoke them.

I climbed to the top of the rubble zone easily and waited until dark. I was able to see the area they were clearing from where I was, and it was impressive. There was another foundation pad for me to use, though I wondered why they weren't dealing with the one at the center of town. The pharmacy was gone, as was the building to its right, but instead of tackling the main building in town, the Protectrons moved up the next side street.

I contemplated why they would do this while I waited for them to emerge. I decided that whoever had made the Protectrons and wrote the notes probably didn't know the area. They just ended up there when the bombs fell or when America became the Wastes instead, just like everyone else. Who they were was debatable, but if my plan worked out, I'd either be a body to add to the...well there must be a body pile since the raiders were gone...or I'd have someone to ask questions to.

As soon as it was dark enough to see several stars, I saw a light come from a stand of trees not too far from where I was. I used a night vision scope to watch as seven Protectrons filed out into the town and walked methodically up the road.

Any other enemy I would've walked right past me, but these Protectrons saw me instantly and ordered me down. I knew to obey, especially when I saw their hands up close. Yes, they had exceptional gripping power, but I could see the holes where bullets could come out at. I knew not to mess with that.

"State your name and business," the Protectron said. It was your standard Protectron voice, but I could tell it could understand me.

"I'm Paul Hamilton. I'm here to meet your creators," I responded.

A light flowed over me, a red laser, and the Protectron shifted back. As I expected, a holotape clicked inside, completing a recording of my message and whatever the scan found. Also as expected, the Protectron left without saying anything to me, all of them. I climbed up and watched all seven disappear into the trees again.

Part of me wanted to follow. Machines that large couldn't just disappear into any old hole in the ground. There was an entrance over in those trees, probably a large sewer opening. They would probably still have to crouch as big as they were, but it was better than no way in or out. I could use that path myself, no problem.

But would you mess with a big ass robot meant to kill stuff breaking the rules BUT it had been modified to do even more?

I waited several hours, then I heard the distinct movement of a Protectron through the brush. I looked down to see one standing there, so I climbed from my spot and stood nose to chest with it.

"Come with me," it said, beginning to walk towards the trees. I followed, surprised at the speed of this machine. Most other Protectrons clanked around somewhat slowly, though they could move faster in times of danger. This guy walked at a steady pace, just like a person, and it was definitely a modification, and whoever did the modification was a pro.

I followed closely, and sure enough, there was a sewer open under the trees, or so I thought. It was actually a mineshaft-looking tunnel that had been carved out, probably by these same Protectrons that dealt with the rubble outside. The tunnel looked as if it had always been here, but I knew better.

After a short walk through the tunnel, we came to a door that needed a terminal to open it. The Protectron accessed the terminal and opened the door without hesitation, then we were inside.

I don't know what I expected when I was first led down here, but it certainly wasn't this place. Tall bookshelves lined every wall, and on each one was a pile of books. Some were missing pages, covers, and several were just pages clipped together, but they were really books.

Tables filled the inside part of the space, and on some were burned or scorched books. It was clear they were being worked on by someone, and my guess went to whoever wrote the note with that neat calligraphy.

After walking through this workspace, the Protectron led me down into a deeper level. It was set up almost like a Vault with individual apartments. Each one had its own use now, as some were storage but others had lab equipment or other items, but the Protectron led me to a bedroom at the back of the area. I was asked to wait in the hallway, which I complied with. I stood patiently, and after a few minutes, the Protectron led me back up to the work area.

A few minutes later, a young woman appeared in a bathrobe. She nodded to me before looking me over. She settled on a stool and yawned before looking back up to me again.

"Sorry if I'm not doing this right. You're the first person I've interacted with in years now, several of them," she whispered, shaking her head. "It's just been me and the robots."

"Who made them?" I asked.

She grinned, "The prototypes were made a long time ago, but these newest versions are all mine. My father always told me we would have the best Protectrons in the whole country, and he encouraged me to take good care of them and continue making them better. I added the modification for rubble clearing a few months ago. I take it must be getting some attention."

"Actually I just got here, and the one guy up there had no idea what you were doing," I replied.

"Really? Oh, John Hammer! He's got some hearing loss in both ears, plus he's malnourished. The scanners don't lie," she said firmly.

I nodded, "He's been living off Instamash, and the hearing loss explains some things there. I've sent him out of here while I investigate this place. I just came up on it and thought it would make a good settlement. I see you had the same idea."

"Well, no, I was looking for more supplies. We don't get many caravans around these parts anymore, and I was running low. So far I've gotten some valuable medications, plus I found some canned goods. It was a good thing too, and I'm happy to see a friendly face. You've made hard choices, suffered some injuries, but the Protectrons don't lie in those scans. You're someone I can trust. I'm Christina York, by the way," she smiled.

"It's nice to meet you," I nodded, looking around, "So what is this place?"

"The Arlington Library Bunker. Arlington Estates was built not long before the war started as a college town setup, basically a place for people working in DC that needed a place to stay and study just in case things hit the fan. From what I was told, people knew for a while what was coming, at least here in DC," Christina explained.

"And they made a bunker here just in case things got really bad?" I asked.

She nodded, "Not that they ever had a chance to go okay. The bombs fell before a lot of people could prepare, but people were already here. My ancestors were supposed to be in the Smithsonian's bunker to continue their work, but the politicians took it over. They put together a caravan of ten or more trucks to cart everyone here. They drove themselves through the night, unloaded, and sent the trucks back with the guys they took with them for the grunt work. The bombs fell during that trip back, which they felt guilty for, but they had no choice. I never blamed them, not a single one of them."

"Who were they?"

"My grandfather was a mathematician. He's the one who sorted through algorithms and all those other things to aid the Protectrons in their work. You need accurate math to make accurate shots, and he was the man who sorted it out. My grandmother was a botanist. She's the one who developed the hydroponics system in the floor below the apartments. It went well, of course, but to get protein I need other sources. The original brahmin and other creatures have all gone now, and that's why I needed more supplies. The vegetables I've been making soups out of to can, so there's plenty to eat."

"That's really impressive. And your parents?" I asked.

She smiled, "My mother was the daughter of a writer and a chemist. She learned how to take the burned books they would find in those days and clean them up, something she taught me. We still need those books, but we could only save so many in those trucks thanks to all the other interests. My father, for example, teamed up with my grandfather's friend, the man who helped with prototypes of different robots. Well, he did the work of bringing in coffee and retrieving things for people, but he paid attention. Plus he was the only one willing to group up with them."

I grinned, "And he taught you how to do these robots."

She nodded, "Exactly. I kept up with the old models and tinkered with new ones until I was teen. By then, the elders had gone. My parents were two of only three children born to them, and that third didn't survive very long. My parents passed when I was fifteen and sixteen respectively, leaving just me. It's been lonely, so lonely, but I'd like to think I've done good work with what I had. I have two specialties, not just one, and I'm getting things going."

"As am I. I came here to create a settlement, and you've got those Protectrons doing the hardest work. We can work together to make this place into something."

"Rather than hiding. That's why everyone died, we hid. Whenever we started going out, people got sick. That was our downfall, hiding after the bombs fell and focusing only on our work. I want to be different, but I still want to work on restoring books."

"I can do that for you," I nodded. "You work on your books while the Protectrons and I get this place running. They clear the rubble and I build up a small city on the surface. Settlers can farm and defend the place, even run shops to set up trade with other settlements. It would be a group effort, and I promise you it'll work out for us."

"I'm willing to let you use the space up there. I had no use for it other than getting supplies, so whatever goes on up there is fine with me. But I need books to work on, and I'm willing to pay quite a bit for them. Small books in any condition will get you one hundred caps, large books two hundred, and I'll give five hundred caps for any textbooks. And if you ever find other intact books that I can use for reference, I'll pay you a thousand caps each," she said with a wide smile.

"That's a lot of caps."

"I know," she nodded, "but what else am I going to do with them all? We knew this was coming. What do you think was in some of those trucks? It was Nuka Cola, but there were also crates and crates of caps. I never understood it, but I don't think any of this was ever supposed to make sense. If they knew, why could no one stop it?"

"They didn't want to stop it has always been my guess," I sighed. "I'll get you the books whenever I find them, and I'll start building on the foundations the Protectrons have made. Unless there's something you need them for during the day, I think you should have them work around the clock up top until we get it done."

"I don't have anything for them down here, just standard security checks every few hours. I'll alter the programming in the morning. Right now, I'd like to head back to bed. Let me know if you need anything, and...I'm trusting you, well, trusting you and the scans. I think you're one of the good ones, but I know enough about the Wasteland to know there are plenty of bad ones too."

"It's my goal to be one of the good ones," I said, standing up again. She followed suit and returned to bed as I returned topside.

I found the Protectrons working hard at clearing rubble. I walked over to where the pharmacy was and began working on getting a building put together. I decided that once I had enough buildings, beds, and resources for everyone, that's when I'd get the place powered up and start getting people back in. As for John, I'd come to him once I got to that point and not a moment sooner.

It was going to be a lot of work, but I was looking forward to getting the place up and running. But most of all, I was looking forward to learning more about this group that gave us Christina in the first place.


End file.
